Not Alone
by jeeno2
Summary: The first time the marks appear on Ben Solo's arm he is eleven years old. Nothing will ever be the same. (A Reylo soulmates AU)
1. Prologue

_a/n: This story is a BIG departure for me, and I've been conflicted about posting it. But, shortly after TLJ premiered an Anon on tumblr sent me "Reylo: Soulmates" and somehow, the idea really stuck with me, in ways I would never have expected. This prologue (and, hopefully, the rest of the story) is the result of me trying to work through my post-TLJ feelings as well as wanting to strike while the inspiration iron is hot, so to speak._

 _Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **{Part 1}**

* * *

The first time the marks appear on Ben Solo's arm he is eleven years old.

He's filthy, out in the middle of Tatooine's hot desert sands, and the youngest of this particular group of young Jedi by more than three years. He's covered in cuts and bruises from his training, and the strange marks – little more than a line here and a swirl there – blend in so well with all the soot and the dust and everything else covering his body he doesn't even notice them at first.

When he does see them, an hour later, he doesn't think much of it. He shrugs, and tries to wipe them off with the back of his hand.

But they don't come off. Not even when he pours water from his canteen over his arm and rubs at them, hard, with his dirty bandana.

"Strange," he mutters, staring at himself, still half-convinced the strange designs now covering most of his forearm are nothing but a trick of the light.

He soon lets the matter drop from his mind. It's hotter than hell out here, and he's exhausted. And he's still got over a mile to go before he's back at camp.

He trudges towards it, thinking only of the dinner that will be waiting for him when he gets there.

* * *

More marks appear that evening, after Ben's finally washed off the day's grit and grime and blood and is lying on his back in his narrow bunk, chasing sleep.

This time, the marks are impossible to miss. They appear on his arm out of nowhere, like magic – as though his body were a well of ink, the symbols merely seeping up from it through the surface of his skin. Once again, the marks are mostly just squiggles and smudged lines, though this time there are a few symbols Ben recognizes as crudely-drawn letters mixed in with the rest of it.

Ben is strong with the Force, and has been brought up since infancy knowing what terrible, dark magic those who are particularly strong with the dark side of the Force are capable of.

But this - what's happening to him right now – is entirely outside his realm of understanding.

He lies awake half the night, transfixed by the symbols on his arm, tracing them with the tip of his left index finger as he wonders what, exactly, they are.

* * *

As the youngest of this group of Jedi students, Ben does his best to blend in.

No one has ever told him as much, but he strongly suspects his uncle waived a number of his usual requirements when he took him on as a student at such a young age.

Most likely Uncle Luke did it as a special favor to his mother.

Either way, Ben knows he's lucky to be here. The last thing he wants is to remind anybody that technically, he's still just a child.

But what's happening to him right now has him very badly shaken. A few days after the marks first appear he finally works up the nerve to ask Master Casja about them over breakfast.

Casja is Uncle Luke's second in command, and oversees the training of the youngest Jedi. He's good at what he does, and is usually quite talkative and quick with a joke.

He's anything but talkative this morning. After Ben makes his confession Casja just stares at him for a long moment, blinking, his jaw hanging open in what looks like genuine surprise.

"Show me your arm," he demands, holding out his hand.

Ben swallows nervously. "But, Master Casja – the marks were gone again when I woke up. They're… um. They're always gone again in the morning." Ben is embarrassed, and suddenly terrified Casja won't believe him.

Even so, he cannot refuse a direct order from a Jedi master even if he wanted to. Ben rolls up his sleeve as requested. With the tip of his finger he shows Casja where the marks had been just the night before.

To his relief, Casja doesn't dismiss his claims as a child's foolish daydreams. On the contrary. He stares at Ben's arm for a long moment, biting his lip and nodding thoughtfully.

"These things… happen sometimes, young Solo," Master Casja says very quietly, eyes averted. He looks embarrassed. Like he'd rather be doing just about anything than having this conversation. "Or at least they did long ago. When the Empire murdered the Jedi and took control of the galaxy most of us assumed it would never happen again." He pauses. "Apparently… Well. Apparently we were wrong."

Ben blanches. "What is it?" he asks. "Am I in danger?"

Master Casja shakes his head and smiles at him. But there's no joy in it. Ben thinks it might be the saddest smile he's ever seen. "No, son," he says. He sighs. "It's nothing like that. I promise."

He pushes his tray off to the side and steeples his fingers together under his chin.

"We need to talk," he says, the sad tone in his voice unmistakable.

* * *

That night, as Ben tries to sleep, a single word appears on his arm.

It's only very faintly illuminated in the darkness by the moonlight streaming in through his open window. It's short, only three letters long – which, fortunately, makes it easy for him to read despite the gloom.

 _Rey_ , it says, in a childish scrawl.

Ben wonders if it's a name. Is it the name of the person sending these messages? The person Master Casja says he's somehow connected to by destiny, or the Force, or… or something?

 _Soulmate_ , Master Casja had said. That's the word he'd used. This person, whoever it is, is his soulmate _._ His heart in his throat, Ben leaps from his bed and grabs a pen off his nightstand.

 _Ben_ , he writes back quickly, in big, blocky letters.

He thinks back on what Master Casja told him this morning. That anything this person writes will appear on his arm right away, and that anything Ben might write on his own arm will appear on theirs. But will it? Will his… his soulmate be able to see his name on their arm now, wherever in the galaxy they might be?

He sits on the edge of his bed for what feels like hours, anxiously staring at his arm, willing something else, _anything_ else, to appear.

Just as he's about to give up and go back to bed, a simple drawing of a single flower appears just below where he'd written his name.

He thinks it might be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"Hello, Rey," he says to the flower, as he traces it with his fingertip. If any of the older students saw him talking to his arm they'd likely think him mad. But he doesn't care. He likes the way _Rey_ feels, tastes, in his mouth. He tries it out again, and decides he likes the simple, uncomplicated way it sounds, too. "I'm Ben."

He stays up most of the rest of the night, passing simple words and drawings back and forth with Rey.

(He's decided _Rey_ is definitely a name. That Rey is a person, somewhere out there.)

And just for tonight, Ben decides to put the rest of what Master Casja told him today – that the inevitable galactic war inching ever closer to them means he will likely never get to meet his soulmate in person – out of his mind.

Ben has never had a real friend before. His parents' important work has meant he has never been in one place long enough to make friends. Now that he's here, training night and day with his uncle to become a Jedi master, he's never had the luxury of time.

So just for now, just for tonight, he decides to pretend, and to think only about what might be possible.

"Rey," he says again. Just because he can. And he smiles.


	2. Chapter 2

_a/n: I am blown away by the response to this fic. Thank you all so much for your reviews, follows, and favorites. They mean a lot to me!_

 _(I hope the formatting for their messages back and forth to each other comes through here on FFn. I had a heck of a time getting it to come out properly.)_

* * *

Rey carefully picks her way down the steep sand dune in front of her shelter towards what serves as this region's merchant district, her day's paltry bounty of twisted scrap metal clutched tightly in her arms.

What she found today won't be enough for a full portion. She knows that much already. The heightened tensions running through the galaxy right now mean there's not much left in the way of rations for backwaters like Jakku anymore.

That gives the junk bosses the only excuse they need to be stingier with scavengers than ever before.

As Rey walks, she periodically glances down at what she's carrying. She regards it with a critical eye, chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip.

Even if this won't get her a full portion, she thinks, it should still be enough for a half portion.

At least, she hopes it's enough. The old wreckage sites are getting more picked over by the day, and Rey is down to her last few packets of dehydrated food. If she can't replenish her meager supplies with this junk – and, if the kindly woman who sometimes shares her extra food has nothing left over after feeding her children tonight – Rey isn't sure what she'll do.

In spite of herself Rey thinks, sourly, that if the old man gives her nothing today, at least her anger with him would distract her from the fact that she hasn't heard from Ben in ten days.

She shakes her head in annoyance with herself a moment later.

She has to put that thought out of her mind for now. Worrying about what might be keeping Ben from her won't fill her belly. For the moment, selling this scrap for as much as she can get needs to be her only concern.

She tells herself she'll try to reach him again tonight, after she gets back home.

Maybe this time, he'll finally answer her.

Her mind made up, she squares her shoulders and continues to make her way towards her destination.

* * *

Rey was only nine years old when the marks that would change her life forever first appeared on her arm.

Now, more than six years later, she still remembers everything about that night with perfect clarity.

Her parents had only been gone a few short months (though at the time it seemed she'd been alone for years). It was mid-summer, the one week every year when Jakku's blazing sun never sets.

The mid-summer sun had baked the barren desert sands all day, and Rey's shelter had been so swelteringly hot that night she couldn't sleep.

On hot nights when sleep eluded her, Rey liked to practice writing the few words she knew how to read. Her parents had taught her the basics of literacy – the alphabet; her name; a few simple words – before they left.

Knowing how to read could sometimes mean the difference between getting swindled by the junk bosses and earning enough credits to stay alive. Her crude command of the alphabet was the only thing of real value her parents ever gave her, and even as a child Rey knew instinctively it was not something she could afford to squander.

At the beginning, she would scratch the letters she could remember onto the walls of her makeshift shelter. But the days without her parents soon turned into weeks, and then into months. Eventually, she needed to save the space on her walls to track the passage of time.

Unfortunately, writing paper was not an option. All the paper on this rock was imported from the core, and was far too precious a commodity to be an alternative for a young scavenger like her.

That left Rey with no options but her own body if she wanted to keep practicing her words. Fortunately, pens and washable ink were easy enough to come by.

Rey had been writing on her arms and legs for five days when Ben's first simple message to her – just his name, in large, blocky letters – exploded into her life like a starburst, neatly splitting her entire existence into a _before_ and an _after_.

Rey didn't know what was happening to her arm. She'd never heard of such a thing happening to anyone before. Yet she knew, somehow, that whatever this was was a good thing, and nothing to fear.

She drew her messenger – whoever it was; wherever he was – a simple flower. She'd seen a flower once, a very long time ago, back when she was young and didn't know enough yet to be scared of the world. It was the loveliest thing she could think of at the time, and she wanted him to see it for reasons she couldn't have explained if she'd tried.

His response to her little drawing was immediate, floating up through the surface of her skin like magic:

 **Beautiful**

Rey hadn't known how to read the word or what it meant. Her parents' lessons hadn't stretched that far. But the way it looked on her arm, right beneath the flower she'd just drawn, made her smile.

* * *

By the time Rey arrives at the merchant district with her scrap for trade, the sun is already beginning to set and the line to see Plutt wraps twice around the back of his storefront.

Her stomach sinks. A long line is never a good sign. The longer the junk bosses are stuck behind their counters the meaner they get, and the fewer portions they have left to pay people like her. Something that might earn someone a full portion on a good day might sell for nothing at all if a person brings it when the sun's too low in the sky.

She berates herself for her slowness. She'll need to walk more quickly next time.

It takes nearly an hour before Rey is finally face to face with Plutt, the loathsome man who she depends upon and despises in equal measure. She takes a deep, steadying breath before throwing her junk down on the counter between them.

 _This is worth a half portion_ , she thinks furiously. She looks into Plutt's eyes and thinks it again, even harder.

"This is worth a half portion," she says out loud, trying desperately to sound authoritative and to keep the nervous tremor out of her voice.

Plutt blinks at her twice, very slowly.

He clears his throat before responding.

"This is worth a half portion," Plutt agrees dismissively, to Rey's surprise. He slaps a small package of food down on the counter and slides it towards her.

Rey tries not to let her relief show on her face.

"I'll take it."

She'll have something to eat tonight, at least.

She stuffs the packet of dehydrated food into her pouch before Plutt can change his mind, and heads for home.

* * *

When at last her evening meal is bubbling on her small cooking stove, Rey finally allows herself to uncap the pen she has used to speak with Ben ever since she was nine years old.

She rummages in her pack for the small damp cloth she keeps on her person at all times. She sets it down beside her, just in case her conversation with Ben tonight is so long she needs to scrub down her arms.

She closes her eyes and takes a breath. Slowly – to buy herself just a little more time – she removes the thin scraps of cloth she wears on her arms to conceal Ben's messages from prying eyes.

She dips the end of her pen into her bottle of ink and begins to write.

 _I miss you Ben,_ she writes.

She still doesn't have much of a way with written language. The words she sends him now aren't remotely big enough to convey what she really feels. Perhaps no such words exist.

How can she describe what it's been like, not hearing from him for so long?

Since the moment he burst into her life they've never gone more than a day without communicating. It feels like some vital part of her body necessary to survival has been hacked away and hidden from her, leaving her gasping and alone.

A moment after she writes her short message to him, however, two letters suddenly appear on her forearm:

 **Hi.**

It's as though a terrible weight Rey hadn't even known she was carrying falls right off her shoulders. She gives an involuntary shout, her hard-won evening meal entirely forgotten.

 **I'm so sorry I've been away.**

Ben's handwriting is always very neat and precise, and seems to flow from his pen with an astonishing quickness that still amazes Rey, even after all this time.

She shakes her head at his apology –forgetting, as she often does when they talk to one another like this, that he cannot see her do it.

 _I'm just glad you are ok_ , she writes.

 **I'm glad too.**

She laughs aloud.

 _I'm sure you are._

 **Uncle Luke is pushing me hard in training. No pen, no time to write, in many days.**

Rey pauses for a moment, not knowing exactly what to say. She seldom does when Ben becomes maudlin about the strange, mysterious calling that requires his location to be kept secret from her, always.

 _That sounds terrible, Ben._

 **Being without you felt like dying.**

She nods in agreement, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

He understands. Of course he does.

 **I don't want to go so long without you ever again. But…**

He trails off without continuing the thought. Rey frowns.

But what, she wonders?

 _But what?_

After what feels like a very long time he writes:

 **Uncle Luke senses a great disturbance in the Force. I feel it too. I think dark times are coming.**

No sooner do the words appear on her arm than Rey feels the truth of them in her bones. She feels cold, suddenly – like the temperature in her shelter has suddenly dropped ten degrees, even though it's the warmest day this part of Jakku has experienced in many months.

Rey shudders a little, and pulls her threadbare shawl a little more tightly around her shoulders.

 _Please be safe._

His answer is immediate.

 **You, too. Promise me.**

She nods, swallowing hard.

 _Of course,_ Ben, she writes. _Always._


	3. Chapter 3

_a/n: Disclaimer: Any negative opinions expressed in this chapter on the subject of Luke Skywalker belong solely to a young and hormonal Ben Solo. They in no way represent the opinions of your humble author (who will always think of Luke as her hero)._

* * *

"Ben," Luke murmurs into his nephew's ear. "What are you doing?"

His words have the intended effect, and Ben startles at once from his daydream. He bolts upright in his straight-backed library chair, his cheek creased from being pressed up against the fabric of his sleeve for the past hour.

Ben flushes with embarrassment at having been caught wasting time like this again. He fumbles around on the table in front of him for the text he was supposed to have been reading.

"I'm… uh, studying, Uncle Luke," Ben stammers, flustered. He finds the right book – the one on kyber crystal mining; he can think of no drier subject – and throws it open to a random page. "That's what I'm doing. Obviously."

Luke gives him a small, indulgent smile. He nods. "Obviously."

His uncle continues to stand beside him with his hands clasped behind his back, watching him silently in that insufferably smug way of his. Ben flips through the pages in agitation until at last he finds the section Master Casja assigned him this morning.

Without taking his finger off the page he looks up at his uncle. "You better leave me now so I can finish, don't you think?"

Uncle Luke smiles again. It's a genuine smile this time. The way it lights up his eyes reminds Ben, for just a brief moment, of the idealistic farm boy he's heard stories about all his life. The brave young Jedi warrior who took down the Empire.

"You're right. I should go," Uncle Luke eventually agrees. His smile fades, and once again Ben is looking into the eyes of the older man Ben has always known. He winks at him; Ben cringes inwardly at the patronizing gesture. "I'll leave you to it."

Luke leaves the temple library on silent feet, leaving Ben alone with his thoughts once more.

* * *

Much to his uncle's frustration, Ben now spends a great deal of his idle time lost in daydreams.

For the most part, these daydreams are about Rey.

Ben wishes he knew what she looked like. He's imagined her face – the color of her eyes; the shape of her lips – so many times over the years he's lost count.

What he wouldn't give to actually _see_ her face. He wants to trace her lips with his fingertips, and then taste her answering smile. He wants to hold her in his arms, her head resting gently on his chest as she sleeps beside him in his bed.

Sometimes, late at night, when Ben cannot sleep, he tries to imagine what it might feel like to have his hands on her body. To press her into the mattress beneath him, her hands tangled needfully in his hair.

Ben is eighteen, and has imagined doing things with Rey he knows a Jedi is supposed to steer well clear of. But knowing that he _shouldn't_ imagine these things does nothing to dull his want. On the contrary. His desire for the soulmate he has never formally met only grows more powerful, and increasingly difficult to ignore, with each passing year.

He knows Rey's hopes and her fears, her mind and her spirit.

He knows her deepest secrets and the contents of her heart.

He wants, desperately, to know the rest of her.

He can, of course, tell none of this to his uncle.

Luke knows generally of Ben's struggles, and does his best to sympathize. But he worries about Ben, and about the situation his nephew has found himself in through circumstances entirely beyond his control.

And although Luke does not judge Ben outwardly for it, Ben still knows his uncle disapproves of the whole thing.

"A Jedi's avoidance of close personal attachments is what keeps us powerful and safe in dark times," he tells Ben often. Luke never says it outright, but Ben knows he always thinks of his own father's fall when he gives these warnings. "While I obviously can do nothing to end this connection, I would be lying if I said your connection with Rey didn't keep me up at night with worry."

Does his uncle ever do anything _besides_ worry?

"I understand," Ben always tells him. But it's a lie. He doesn't understand. How could something so wonderful possibly be bad? "I'll be careful."

He tries to sound convincing but he knows Uncle Luke never believes him.

"Good," he always says in return. But his eyes betray his doubt.

* * *

One week later, Ben decides it's time to tell Rey about his plans.

After the temple lights are put out, signaling the beginning of the nightly curfew, Ben carefully slides open a hidden compartment on the underside of his small desk. Legend among the younglings is that this trap door was installed years ago by an especially mischievous boy with a penchant for smuggling in contraband from Coruscant.

Feeling along the bottom of the drawer Ben eventually finds, then extracts, the small bottle of Corellian gin he stashed here months ago.

He uncaps it, and then takes a large swallow to steady his nerves.

The stuff is awful, and probably not worth half what he paid that older boy for it. It burns terribly all the way down and makes his stomach clench.

He will never understand how his father can like this stuff as much as he does.

But the drink does its job well enough. Ben feels a bit warmer now, and somewhat less terrified then he did a moment ago. For that, at least, he is grateful.

Ben sits at his desk and takes out his pen set from the top drawer. It's the one small personal luxury they allow him here, given his circumstances.

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and presses the tip of his pen to his arm before he can second-guess himself.

He writes:

 **I'm coming to visit you, Rey.**

There. It's done.

He exhales slowly, feeling more relieved than he thought he would when he'd imagined this moment. Rey knows the truth now. It feels good, after keeping these plans from her these past few weeks.

Ben sits and stares at his arm, willing her response to appear. What does she think about this development?

What is she thinking, in general?

But the minutes tick by slowly with no answer.

Just when he's decided his next course of action should be smash his stupid bottle of gin against the opposite wall she finally writes him back.

 _But we've discussed this, Ben._

Ben's shoulders slump. He closes his eyes and runs a shaky hand through his hair in agitation.

She's right, of course. They have discussed this. Dozens of times.

And they always come to the same conclusion. Specifically, that their meeting in person is an impossibility.

Rey believes she cannot leave Jakku. Not until her parents return. She believes she must stay right where she is because when her mother and father come back they need to be able to find her.

(Ben is convinced her parents – if they're even still alive – are never returning to Jakku. If they were planning to, surely they would have done so by now. But this is a conclusion Rey must reach on her own, and Ben holds his tongue whenever she mentions it.)

As for him, because of a promise his mother extracted from Uncle Luke years ago, Ben is forbidden from solo interplanetary travel without Uncle Luke's knowledge and express permission. And Uncle Luke will never agree to his visiting Rey.

He shakes his head and sighs.

He needs to make Rey understand.

 **It's different this time,** he explains.

 **I have a plan.**

And he does.

Two weeks ago, Ben paid one of his classmates a good portion of the credits his parents left him for his personal expenses while at the Jedi temple. This classmate has a very fast ship – and official Jedi business near Jakku in one month's time.

 **Chash will bring me with him on his mission. He'll drop me off on Jakku.**

She doesn't respond.

 **Uncle Luke will approve my going with him. It's an important trip. He won't know what I'm really doing. Chash would never tell.**

Still nothing from Rey.

Ben squeezes his eyes tightly shut, and tries hard to tamp down the panic rising inside him.

 **Rey, please. Say something. I need to see you. And I think this'll work.**

After what feels like an eternity, she finally writes back.

 _When will I see you, Ben? When are you coming to me?_

Ben clenches his fist and punches the air.

It takes all his restraint not to shout in triumph.

 **Soon** , he writes, giddier than he's ever felt in his life. **In about a month.**

He isn't sure he'll ever be able to stop smiling.

* * *

But his sleep that night is troubled.

In his dreams, Ben finds himself walking alone along a tunnel deep beneath the ground.

He does not recognize anything about his surroundings, though the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore suggests that wherever he is, the sea is not far away.

He is searching for something here. He's certain about that. He knows it like he knows the way his lightsaber feels in his hands. Like he knows his own name.

But the dark side of the Force is strong here, wherever _here_ is. And Ben does not know what he's come here to find.

Abruptly, after many hours of walking, Ben reaches the end of the tunnel. He comes upon a large pane of mirrored glass, frosted over with mist and cobwebs and the dust of time.

Whatever he's come to this strange place to find is on the other side of this glass, Ben suddenly realizes.

He starts to rub off the grime with the sleeve of his tunic so he can see beyond it.

When it's clean enough to see through, Ben sees an image of… _himself_ , on the other side. Or, at least, the person on the other side looks how he imagines he might look in several years' time.

The mirror-him looks a bit older, a bit broader through the chest and shoulders, and just a little taller than he currently is. Instead of the sand-colored gray tunic Ben has worn these past eight years at the Jedi temple this older version of himself is dressed, from head to toe, in the darkest black clothing Ben has ever seen. Instead of slouching, with gangly limbs that don't yet quite fit his growing body, this future version of himself stands upright, proud and confident as he gently rests one hand on the hilt of his lightsaber.

Off in the distance, far beyond where this future Ben stands, sits a dark, shadowy figure atop an iron throne. Ben only realizes he is even there when, at length, he begins to laugh.

 _Soon_ , the figure intones, his voice deep and rusty with long disuse. _Very soon, young Solo._

* * *

Ben wakes at dawn with a gasp, his heart pounding in his chest.

He wonders exactly what it was he'd just seen.


	4. Chapter 4

After rising and getting dressed, Ben's first instinct is to find his uncle right away and tell him about his disturbing dream.

He does not know what his strange visions meant. If, in fact, they meant anything at all. All he knows is everything in the dream – the mirror; the older version of himself he saw on the other side of it, dressed all in black; and the man hidden in the shadows who'd laughed and called him _young Solo_ –has left him very badly shaken.

If Ben's suspicions are correct, and the dream was influenced by the dark side of the Force, his uncle will help him make sense of it.

But an hour later, when Ben sees Uncle Luke in the training yard, chatting with another young Jedi, he stops short, and thinks better of discussing the matter with him.

Ben understands, suddenly, and with crystal clarity, that those visions were meant for him and him alone.

He does not know how he knows this. All he knows is he cannot, _must_ not, share any of what he saw with Uncle Luke. Keeping it from his uncle is, in fact, of the utmost importance.

"Good morning, Ben," Luke calls out abruptly.

His uncle strides across the yard towards him, bringing Ben out of his dark thoughts. Ben leans against the garden wall and tries to muster a convincing smile.

It's difficult work, given his mood.

"Good morning, Uncle Luke." Failing at a smile, Ben tries to school his features into a neutral expression. That's a bit easier. He nods in the direction of the training course where he will spend most of his day. "More sparring today?"

Luke's answering smile is broad, and so sincere Ben's heart clenches at the thought of his small deception. At all his recent deceptions.

"I'm ready if you are, kid." Luke pulls his lightsaber from its holster and activates it with a flick of his wrist.

Ben swallows, and grabs for the lightsaber in his own holster. He is so rattled that his lightsaber – which usually feels like an extension of his own body, as much a part of him as his own right arm – feels strange in his hands. Like he's holding someone else's weapon, not his own.

"All right," he says to his uncle. He tries to shake off his unease. What is _wrong_ with him? "Let's get started."

* * *

Rey carefully pulls the tiny mirror Giersha lent her two days ago from the drawer where she's been keeping it.

Feeling like a bit of an idiot – but not enough like an idiot to put the mirror back where she got it from– she cranes her neck and twists her arm into odd angles so she can see as much of herself in the little glass as possible.

Ordinarily, Rey gives little thought to her appearance. To survive here she must be fast on her feet, good with her staff, and able to get by on the small bits of food and water she's able to find. As a result, her body is lean, muscular, and strong. She keeps her hair in three practical but entirely unsophisticated knots on her head so it stays out of her face, and her clothing is utilitarian rather than fashionable, and well-suited for Jakku's hot sun.

In short, she has adapted, very well, to her harsh surroundings. What she looks like while doing so is irrelevant.

None of this has ever struck her as problematic before.

But the longer Rey looks at herself in the mirror this afternoon, the more dissatisfied she is by what she sees.

Her mind wanders to the pretty, painted girls who loiter in the spaceport's seedy cantinas, hoping to meet lonely travelers interested in a few hours' paid company.

Those girls are scavengers too, of a sort. Rey knows that. She also knows their lives are nothing to envy. But the kind of work they do doesn't require them to scurry up old, rusted-out pieces of military equipment. It doesn't leave them with sunburns, scrawny underfed bodies, or jagged, permanent scars on their legs.

Those girls spend their days and nights sitting in the cantina – or, if they're having a particularly profitable night, lying on comfortable beds. And so their bodies look nothing like hers. They have real hips, generous curves, and breasts that are much larger than the small, underdeveloped bumps Rey has on her own chest.

Rey closes her eyes and sets the mirror down.

She shakes her head, irritated with herself.

It's ridiculous to be thinking this way. She has no reason to be this worried over something so frivolous.

And yet she can't help but worry Ben will be… disappointed, somehow, when he sees her today for the first time.

What will she do if he is?

"Stupid," she mutters. "I'm being completely stupid."

She chucks the mirror back into the drawer and slams it shut with more force than necessary.

As if on cue, a message from Ben suddenly appears on her arm.

 **Entering Jakku's orbit now. Be there in an hour. See you soon.**

An anticipatory thrill goes down Rey's spine as she reads his words.

An hour.

Assuming there are no hold-ups at the spaceport, in one hour she will be standing face to face with the person she feels she's known all her life. Her best, and only, friend.

Her earlier uneasiness forgotten, Rey picks up her pen to write him back.

She can't seem to stop smiling.

 _Meet you at the spaceport in one hour. Fly safe._

His reply is immediate.

 **I always do**.

Rey does her best to tidy up her small living space (Ben will be seeing it today, after all). Once satisfied with things, she wraps her thin, sand-colored shawl around her shoulders.

Her heart in her throat, she jumps into her old speeder and points it in the direction of Jakku's only spaceport. In the direction of Ben.

It will take her nearly an hour to get there from here and she does not want to be late.

* * *

Ever since Ben told her of his mad plan to sneak away from the Jedi temple and visit her, Rey has been worried they wouldn't know how to find each other once he got here.

Despite the physical danger she puts herself in every day, Jakku's only spaceport is one of the few places Rey ever feels truly uneasy. The planet's location – far from most of the core planets, isolated even within the inner rim – makes it an attractive location for people with something to hide. The spaceport is dingy, dark, and crowded, full of dilapidated ships and people with little left to lose.

To make matters worse she doesn't really know what Ben looks like.

She knows the basics, of course, based mostly on details he's shared with her over the years and a few things she's worked out on her own. He has dark hair and dark eyes. He's tall and lanky, though he wishes he weren't.

It's not much to go on. And Jakku's spaceport is a place to get lost in, not a place you go to be found. The few concrete descriptors Ben's given her will only help so much.

But she shouldn't have worried.

The moment Rey enters the section of the spaceport reserved for ships from the core she can sense an unmistakable combination of joy, nerves, and eager anticipation that perfectly mirrors everything she's felt since Ben first told her he was coming.

What she's feeling right now must be coming from him.

He must be here.

Rey moves quickly, going where the feelings lead her, following them as they get stronger and stronger. She strides past hangars and ships, vagabonds and pickpockets, refusing to slow her pace or even look at her surroundings until she gets to where she needs to be.

And although she did not know what Ben Solo looked like a moment ago, the minute she sees him standing there, hands on his hips, looking up at his ship as the rough Jakku winds ruffle his dark hair, she knows, at once, that it's him.

She doesn't know how she knows. But she does. Now that he's here, right here, something deep inside her that has always been there has shifted. Subtly, but no less permanently for that.

He was right about being tall, she thinks. He's still a good distance away from her but she can tell he's at least full head taller than she is, with long limbs that he moves with a surprising grace as he helps his co-pilot unload their ship. He laughs at something the older boy says, the sound of it warm, low, and inviting.

 _I'm here_ , _Ben,_ she thinks, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

Suddenly, as though he'd just heard her unspoken thoughts, Ben's whole body stiffens.

And then slowly, like he's moving in some kind of dream, he turns to face her.

Their eyes meet at last, and his entire face lights up.

He must recognize her too, she realizes, her heart soaring.

Shouldering his bag, Ben quickly makes his way across the hangar to where she's standing.

The smile he gives her would light up the entire galaxy.

"Hi," he says, brimming with a palpable sort of nervous energy Rey can feel. His dark brown eyes are soft and hopeful, warm and bright, and they roam over every inch of her face as he drinks her in.

"Hi," she says back to him, feeling suddenly shy. Which is ridiculous, she knows, given that they've known each other all their lives. "I'm… Rey."

He flashes her a crooked smile, and then laughs. The sound of it – playful, warm – makes her heart skip a beat.

"I know," he says. He extends his hand towards her. An odd sort of thrill goes through her when she notices it's trembling. "I'm Ben."

She takes his hand, and carefully interlaces her fingers through his. His hand is warm, and calloused from his years of training, and much larger than hers.

It feels like home.

She gives it a gentle squeeze.

"I know," she says back to him.

They stand together like that, silently, oblivious to the fact that they're standing in the middle of a crowded, dangerous spaceport, their hands clasped tightly together, for what feels like hours.

Only when Ben's friend comes up behind him and claps him, hard, on the shoulder, do they remember themselves and break apart.

"I'll be back in one week, Solo," he says to Ben. He holds up one index finger to make certain his meaning's understood. Despite the older boy's abrupt tone he looks amused. "If you stay any longer Master Luke will know something's up."

Ben sobers immediately. He nods. "Understood, Chash," he says. "And – hey. Thank you."

Chash winks at him. "I'll see you around." He turns on his heels and walks quickly back to his ship.

Ben watches his friend walk away for a long moment before turning to face her again.

"Rey," he says again, very quietly. Like he's testing out the word, seeing how it sounds.

He clears his throat, and he takes her hand.

"Ben," she says, smiling, and she takes him home.


	5. Chapter 5

_a/n: Please note this story's rating change. Things get a liiiiiittle smutty here, though I mostly just upped the rating to be on the safe side._

 _I recently made a SW/Reylo tumblr. The URL is reylowhispers if you'd like to come say hello._

* * *

Ben always assumed Rey had a difficult life on Jakku.

He knows enough about the planet to know it's not a place where the living is easy for anyone. Rey has confirmed this over the years by just about everything she's ever told him about her life here.

Nothing in any of Ben's worst imaginings, however, match up with the blunt reality of what he finds when he arrives.

Rey is staggeringly thin. Her wrists are barely bigger around than the circle made by her thumb and forefinger. She's tall enough for a girl her age, which suggests that for much of her earliest childhood she had adequate nutrition. And she is incredibly strong, able to handle both her speeder and the weight of his heavy travel bags with ease. But Ben can easily see the outline of each of her ribs through the thin fabric of her tunic, and he does not doubt she has days where she goes without any food at all.

And Rey's home – or, rather, the horrible rusted-out AT-AT she shelters in – has holes in its makeshift roof so large she can count the stars from her bed at night. It's so uninsulated from the elements that the desert winds blow sand straight through what passes for her front door, and the distant wails of half-starved animals are her backdrop into sleep every night.

He cannot possibly leave her here when he returns to the Jedi temple in one week.

"Rey," he breathes. He drops his bags to the ground and stares at her, at the rusty old AT-AT, unable to believe she has had nothing but _this_ to protect her, keep her safe, all the years he's known her. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He slides his hand into the pocket of his trousers and fingers the credits he came here with. His original back-up plan had been to give her the rest of the money his parents left him for this year's expenses if, at the end of the week, she refused to come with him.

But her life here is so much worse then he'd imagined. Leaving her behind with nothing but his extra spending money to help her get by is not an option.

He opens his mouth to tell her this. To say that whatever she thinks is keeping her here, she _will_ be leaving Jakku with him when Chash comes back next week.

Before he can form the words, she takes his hands in hers.

"Ben," she whispers.

And then suddenly, everything he'd been about to tell her dies on his lips.

Because all at once, without warning, Ben is able to see what Rey sees.

 _Everything_ that Rey sees.

He sees a vision of a little girl dressed in desert rags, being restrained by a kindly older woman. The little girl cries endlessly for her parents, but the older woman just shakes her head and gently guides her away.

He sees a vision of Rey, not much younger than she is now, haggling with a disfigured junk dealer who must be twice her age and three times her size. This vision of Rey refuses to back down from what she feels is a fair price. The junk dealer digs in his heels, refuses to compromise – until suddenly, just like that, he agrees to give Rey everything she's asking for, his eyes vacant and staring.

And he sees what Rey sees, right now. He sees himself, standing before her, all of her hopes and dreams, fears and doubts coalescing around him until his features are blurry and indistinguishable from the desert sands surrounding them.

The visions end abruptly, without warning, and as unexpectedly as they began.

Ben is looking at Rey again, blinking at her in the hot desert sun, holding her hands.

He is stunned, reeling, by what just happened.

How had he not foreseen this?

How had Rey's abilities not been obvious to him from the beginning?

"Rey," he says again, thunderstruck. He doesn't let go of her hands, though his own are shaking badly. Slowly, he raises first one small hand, and then the other, to his lips, kissing them tenderly in turn.

If Rey has any idea that she just projected a lifetime of images into his mind she shows no sign of it. She only looks back at him, blushing a little as he continues to stare.

He shakes his head in disbelief.

She must be made aware of her power.

Ben is still determined not to leave this terrible place without her. But first, he decides, they need to have a very different conversation.

* * *

Ben frowns, and wraps his arms around Rey as she perches delicately on his lap.

He leans back against the side of the AT-AT, grateful for the small bit of shade it provides.

"What we're about to do will be nothing like the training you could get at the Jedi temple, you know," he warns her for the third time in as many minutes.

Because it won't be.

Nothing he can teach her here, today, can really prepare her for the challenges she may face in the future.

What's more (and the one thing he cannot explain to her), if he is going to give Rey lessons in the Force he will have to be careful. He will have to keep his barriers up the entire time, because he must make certain she never crosses over into his thoughts the way she so easily projected her own.

If Rey sees even a fraction of the dark visions he now sees almost every time he closes his eyes at night – the death of Uncle Luke, for starters; the murder of his father by his own hand – it might scare her away forever.

He wonders, feeling panicked, if he's really going to be able to do this.

Untroubled by any of his concerns, Rey turns around and looks at him.

"If what you're telling me is right, I need a teacher," she says. "You're here, and you're the only Jedi I know. And you know a hell of a lot more about all this than I do." She shrugs. "You'll do fine."

Ben sighs, and closes his eyes. "Fine," he says, resigned. He wraps his arms around her a little more tightly adjusts her position on his lap. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, marveling that such simple gestures are possible at last. "Ready to try?"

Rey nods. "Yeah. I think so."

She closes her eyes and raises her right arm parallel to the ground, palm facing downward, the way he showed her earlier this afternoon.

"Like… like this?"

She looks so earnest as she tries, for the first time in her life, to use the Force intentionally. Ben can't seem to stop the smile that crosses his face as he watches her.

"Yeah. Just like that," he assures her. "Now. Go ahead and reach out with your feelings. The way I explained it. The way I think you've been doing all along without realizing it."

Rey bites her lip and squeezes her eyes more tightly shut.

"Okay," she says, sounding less confident.

He nods. "You're doing fine. Now. What do you see?"

She pauses for a very long moment before responding.

"I see… you," she says. She opens her eyes, and twists on his lap again until she's facing him.

She leans forward and, smiling, she kisses him on the lips.

"Huh," he says. He scratches at the back of his neck, pretending to think. "Maybe sitting on my lap for your first lesson wasn't such a great idea." He gives her a quick peck on the lips, and then another one, before leaning in and kissing her for real.

She wraps her arms around him, and her first Force lesson is over before it really began.

* * *

That night, Rey finally answers the unspoken question he's been wanting to ask all day.

"I have to stay here, Ben."

They are lying together on her narrow bed when she tells him. Her body fits against his so perfectly, as though she was made just for him, her head resting on his chest and her small, slender body cocooned within his arms. Ben doesn't think he'll be able to live without this now that he knows what it's like, lying here and holding her in his arms like this.

He closes his eyes and buries his face in her hair. "I _won't_ leave you here," he says tersely.

Rey rolls over so she's facing him. She places one small hand at the center of his chest. Ben can feel the heat of her palm through the thin fabric of his sleeping shirt and all the way down to his skin.

"I have to stay," she says again, murmuring the words against his lips. She won't meet his gaze. "You know I do."

Rey's tunic has shifted a little with her movements, and out of his peripheral vision Ben can see she wears no breastband beneath it. He clenches his hands into fists, and digs his fingernails into his palms to remember himself.

"Rey –"he begins. He's been rehearsing this moment. Practicing what he would say to her, the arguments he would make to counter hers, if she told him she couldn't leave with him in one week's time.

He's prepared to tell her anything, give her everything he has and more, if it means she will leave this terrible place and be with him.

She doesn't give him the chance.

"Ben," she says, interrupting him before he can say another word.

Slowly, but with deliberate purpose, she rolls him over until he's on his back. She presses a gentle kiss to each of his temples, to his lips, to the base of his throat.

She leans back, and in one fluid motion she strips off her tunic before dropping it to the floor beside them.

His eyes widen in surprise.

" _Oh_ ," he breathes, the single syllable slipping out of him involuntarily.

Ben has spent countless hours imagining this moment, trying to picture what Rey might look like undressed, but nothing he's ever imagined compares to the reality of her, sitting beside him, absolutely ethereal in the moonlight streaming in from the makeshift windows. Her breasts are small, no larger than the palms of his hands, but beautiful, glorious, tipped with little pink buds he longs to touch. To taste.

Before he can ask for permission to touch her, she reaches down between them and gently, gently places her hand where he is straining, already, for her touch. The warmth and the gentle pressure of her hand are indescribable, and when she moves her hand, begins to stroke him slowly but purposefully through his trousers, it is nearly his undoing.

"I don't… I don't know how to do this," he admits hoarsely, flushing with shame, once the rest of their clothes have been discarded. _Stars,_ she is beautiful. She is perfect. She deserves better than this terrible place. Better than him.

Rey climbs on top of him, and shifts until their bodies are aligned, the tips of her perfect breasts pressing up against his chest and the tip of his length lined up at her entrance.

He closes his eyes, and begs the Force to let this moment last forever.

"We'll figure it out together," she whispers back to him, before all talking ends.

* * *

Snoke sits upon a plush-covered chair in what will one day be his throne room, feeling especially pleased with himself.

Everything is proceeding exactly as he has foreseen it.

The ragtag troops gathering at the far corners of the outer rim – ostensibly to rise up against him – are not, and never will be, any match for the armies he is amassing right here in the core. Of this Snoke has no doubt.

The men and women of this new First Order – _his_ new First Order – are highly skilled and highly trained. They will fight for him. They will soon call him their Supreme Leader. Soon enough they will gladly die for him, too, if he commands it.

As for the matter of young Solo…

Well.

Ben Solo, unfortunately, is a different matter altogether.

In Snoke's weaker moments he finds himself growing impatient with the boy. It has been years now since he began sowing the seeds for what will eventually come to pass.

Years that have not been wasted, to be sure. Since he first visited Solo in his dreams Snoke has built his armies, and made his plans known and his name feared from one end of this galaxy to the other.

And he knows, on some level at least, that a thing as complicated as turning the nephew of Luke Skywalker, the son of Leia Organa and Han Solo, to the dark side cannot be rushed.

It is not enough to merely sow the seeds for Ben Solo's eventual turn. No; the seeds must be watered, carefully cultivated, and regularly tended over a long period of time.

But Snoke also knows neither his army nor the First Order will be complete without a strong, powerful lieutenant by his side. Snoke can't help but wish everything that has yet to happen with Ben Solo would just happen a bit _faster_.

Sighing, and knowing that no matter how much he wishes it weren't the case there is truly nothing to be done for it but wait, Snoke reaches out with the Force to see what his future apprentice is doing in this moment.

To his great surprise he finds Ben Solo not safely ensconced within the Jedi temple like he'd expected, but rather on Jakku, sleeping peacefully beside that scavenger girl the Force bonded him with when they were still children.

Snoke opens his eyes. And he smiles.

"Soon," he says happily, though there's no one else in the room to hear him. "Oh, this is most excellent news indeed."

He steeples his slender fingers together beneath his chin as he contemplates how best to implement the next phase of his plan. Because it is clear to him now that the time to implement it has finally arrived.

Perhaps, Snoke muses, it is time to give that girl a glimpse of what Ben Solo dreams about at night under his influence.

"Yes," he decides, nodding. "Yes. It is time."

If the Force is as strong with her as Snoke has long suspected, a glimpse into her young friend's mind will be easy enough to arrange. And it should be more than enough to accomplish what he needs it to do.


	6. Chapter 6

a/n: I have a Star Wars/Reylo tumblr! I'm reylowhispers if you'd like to come say hello.

* * *

 _Kylo is sitting on the edge of their bed, waiting for her, when Rey finally steps out of their small bathroom. She feels a bit like she's wearing a costume, having traded in her inconspicuous training clothes for the form-fitting, floor-length silver gown she knows he loves her in. She's wearing delicate black heels that add a good four inches to her height, and she has to concentrate not to totter in them as she walks towards their bed._

 _Just as Rey predicted, his dark eyes are on her instantly._

 _He gets to his feet, eyes roving over her body._

 _It takes him a moment before he regains his composure enough to speak. He clears his throat. "Rey," he breathes. "You look…"_

 _He trails off, but from the look he's giving her Rey knows well enough how he meant to end that sentence._

 _She smirks at him. "Do you think this dress is appropriate for tonight?" She crosses the room to her bureau and rummages through the top drawer until she finds the silver bracelets she'd been looking for. She slides them onto her wrists and then turns to face Kylo again, arms folded across her chest._

 _He's still staring at her, but his eyes look brighter now. Almost amused._

 _"No" he says bluntly. "Not appropriate."_

 _She raises an eyebrow. "No?"_

 _"No," he says again. He moves towards her and pulls her into his arms. "Because if you wear it, it's just going to make me want to get you out of that stupid dinner as quickly as possible so I can tear it off you."_

 _As if to prove his point he leans in and begins pressing a line of wet, hungry, open-mouthed kisses along the slim column of her throat._

 _She laughs at him and swats his arm playfully, though she makes no move to either stop him or move out of his reach. She's been away two weeks now, out in the outer rim searching for younglings with Force sensitivity that the Resistance has been keeping hidden from the Supreme Leader. The feel of Kylo's strong hands and soft lips on her body after all this time apart is too heady a thing to resist._

 _"What's this dinner for, anyway?" she manages. But only just. He's working his way back up her neck now, pausing briefly at her earlobe so he can suck it into his mouth. He slides his hands down her back until he reaches her backside. He grabs her there, and pulls her so close to him she can feel exactly how hard he already is against her thigh._

 _"Mmm?" he mumbles, unresponsively, against the hollow of her throat._

 _She shivers in spite of herself. The effect this man can still have on her, even after all this time…_

 _It takes her breath away._

 _"What's this dinner for?" she asks him again. Because she truly has no idea why she's wearing this ridiculous dress. "Can't we… I don't know. Just skip it?"_

 _At that, Kylo stops moving. He pulls back._

 _He sighs, and scrubs a hand over his face in frustration._

 _"No. Unfortunately, we can't just skip it." He moves away from her and begins pacing their room. "The Supreme Leader wants to celebrate Starkiller Base's first successful tactical assault. I'm to be seated next to him at his table." He stops pacing and glances at her, looking pained. "I – we – have to attend. I'm sorry."_

 _Rey nods. "Was it a success, then?" She crosses over to him and places her hand on his arm._

 _He gives her a small smile._

 _"Yes," he says softly. He leans forward and gently cups her face in his hands. He slowly brushes the pads of his thumbs back and force across her lips, staring at her mouth, like he'd like nothing better than to be kissing her right now. "It was a success beyond our most optimistic projections. The Hosnian system – all of it –is gone."_

 _Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise._

Gone _._

 _Everything they've worked so hard for, finally within reach._

 _Rey winds her arms around his neck. She stands on tiptoe (even when she's in heels, Kylo towers over her small frame) and presses her lips to his ear._

 _"Let's go to this dinner," she murmurs. "Make the Supreme Leader happy, yeah? And then, after we've made our appearances, we sneak back to our room to celebrate the news properly."_

 _She delicately, meaningfully, traces the shell of his ear with the tip of her tongue. A thrill goes through her when she feels him shudder in her arms._

 _He clears his throat._

 _"I… love the way you think, Rey," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. Turning a little, he leans forward and presses a lingering, chaste kiss to her forehead._

 _She hums appreciatively. "I love the way I think, too."_

 _He laughs. "Right, then," he says. He stands straighter, and adjusts his cape. He places one large, warm hand at the small of her back. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"_

* * *

Rey wakes before dawn in her narrow bed on Jakku, gasping for breath, her heart pounding like a jackhammer in her chest.

What did she just _see_?

She rolls over onto her side and is startled to see Ben already awake too, his eyes wide, staring back at her.

With a trembling hand she fumbles around in the bedsheets for his hand. Finding it, she quickly knots her fingers through his. His own hand is strong and steady, and she wills the press of his palm against hers to calm her nerves.

She swallows as she tries to find her voice.

"Did… did you have the same dream I had?" she asks, her voice trembling even more than her hand is. Under normal circumstances it would be an absurd question to ask a person but she already knows his answer will be yes. The look he's giving her right now practically confirms it. "Did you see –"

"Yes. I saw," Ben says, cutting her off. His jaw is tense, his words clipped and precise. "I saw… I saw everything. It… I mean, I'm fairly certain it was actually _my_ dream. I think you were only there, witnessing it, because you're with me right now. And because we're so strongly connected through the Force."

Rey isn't certain how he knows all this. It certainly felt like it was her dream, too. But the intense look in his eyes and firm set of his jaw tells her to just leave it.

Rey moves closer to him and rests her head on his chest. His heartbeat races beneath her ear. In spite of everything, she marvels at the feel of him next to her, lying here with her in her bed, in her arms.

"What was that place?" she whispers. "Do you know?" She's never seen anything like the opulence of that room, of that silver dress, in her life. She'd never even imagined such things existed. "And what is _Starkiller Base_?"

Ben closes his eyes. "I'm not sure what that place was," he admits. He doesn't sound half as bewildered or shaken as she is. He sounds resigned. Tired. "Or what Starkiller Base is. All I know is I'm supposed to find them."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "How can you know that?"

"I've had that dream before. Or variations of it, anyway." He pauses, and bites his lip. "Though none of the other dreams were ever as vivid as that one." He opens his eyes again and rolls over until they are facing each other. He slides an arm around her and pulls her even closer. Only when she feels the insistent press of his growing erection against her bare thigh do the events of last night come rushing back to her, as does the fact that they never got dressed again before falling asleep.

She swallows, flustered. But she does not pull back from him. "You've… dreamed about that terrible place before?"

He nods against her shoulder. "Yeah. But like I said, never with so much detail. Also, you being in the dream… that part was new, too."

He pulls back a little and smiles at her, but there's no joy in it. The smile looks forced, and doesn't reach his eyes.

Rey looks away, beyond him, over his shoulder. She focuses her attention on the pen and inkwell lying on the small table against the wall, untouched since his arrival.

"Well, I disagree. I don't think you should try and find that place," she tells him.

Because she doesn't.

It hadn't been him in that dream. It hadn't been either one of them. Not really. There was virtually no trace of her kind, thoughtful Ben in that intense young man who went by a different name but still looked at her through Ben's eyes. And the woman who'd moved with her body and spoken with her voice…

It had felt nothing like the real her, either.

It _wasn't_ her.

Everything about the place, about the two of them in it, felt horribly, terribly wrong.

Ben sighs again. "Were you able to feel the power flowing through that room, Rey? The power flowing through both of us?" He pulls back, and lifts her chin until she has to look him in the eye. "Didn't you feel how _strong_ we both were with the Force? And how… how in love we were?"

She narrows her eyes at him. _Aren't we_ already _in love_? she wants to shout at him.

But she bites her tongue. She takes some calming breaths, and closes her eyes as she tries to recall the dream. It's already starting to fade, the way most strange dreams fade once day breaks. All she can clearly call to mind now – other than how wonderful it had been to have his hands, his mouth, on her body – is a nearly overwhelming sense of impending doom.

"I remember… darkness," she tells him. "Just… darkness. And…. and I remember that it felt really good, you kissing me and touching me like that."

Ben nods, frowning. "I see."

He says nothing more for a very long time after that. Eventually, however, he clears his throat. He pulls her closer. "I think… I think the dream was meant to show me that Master Luke can't help me grow my power to its full potential. I don't think my training will be complete until I find this… Supreme Leader." Another pause. "Whoever he is."

Rey's stomach fills with dread at his words, although she couldn't explain why if she tried. "Ben, no. It doesn't feel right to me."

He gives a hollow laugh. "I don't know that it feels right to me either." He rubs at his eyes, and yawns. The sun is beginning to crest the horizon outside the AT-AT and for the first time, Rey can clearly see the dark circles that ring his eyes. How much sleep did he actually get last night? "I probably won't know if it's right or wrong until I get there."

Ben pauses for another long moment and then bites his lip, as though warring with himself over whether to tell her the rest of what's on his mind.

"What is it?" Rey prods. She leans forward and rests her forehead against his. He exhales a shaky breath and his whole body relaxes against hers. "Tell me, Ben. Please."

"I hadn't wanted to tell you any of this," he mumbles against her lips. "But you saw the dream, so now…"

She kisses the tip of his nose. "Please tell me," she says.

He nods. Takes a deep breath. "The dark side of the Force, Rey," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "It calls to me in my sleep. Almost every night now."

A chill goes down Rey's spine. She doesn't know what the dark side of the Force is. Not really. She barely even understands what it means to have the powers she's apparently had all her life. But Ben's body goes rigid, and then he begins to tremble all over, once he's made his confession. That's all she needs to know that whatever this means, it isn't good.

"Tell your uncle," she says. It's the first thing that pops into her head to say, but it feels right. "He brought down the Empire, didn't he? And he's a Jedi master. He'll know what to do."

Ben gives another sharp, hollow bark of laughter. He pulls back her bedsheets and is on his feet in an instant.

"Uncle Luke can never know about any of this," he says sharply, a bitter edge in his voice Rey has never heard before. He begins to pace her small room in agitation, in the same way he did in their shared dream. Rey's heart clenches, watching him. "Never."

"Well, what _will_ you do?" she asks.

He stops pacing and then turns to face her.

"I don't know," he admits. He closes his eyes and buries his face in his hands. "I really don't. All I know is… that place we saw is a place I'm meant to find. That I _need_ to find." He looks at her. "I've never been so frightened, Rey."

* * *

They spend the rest of the morning in bed together, dozing and trying to keep the encroaching darkness at bay.

But Ben knows, now, that it won't last.


End file.
